19 Scars
by meikaros
Summary: Just because we don't see the scars at first glance doesn't mean they don't exist. Scars, both figuratively and literally. Nico's are obvious. Spending time in literal Hell doesn't leave you unscathed. Will's...are not. It's so easy to take his sunny personality at face value. But he's a doctor, and one of the first rules doctors learn are that you can't save everybody. Solangelo
1. Part 1

**AN: **

**Disclaimer: My name ain't Rick**

**Thank you to my friend-o Primie for painstakingly going through all this. And no, all mistakes are my own, not hers.**

**Warning: Discriptions of Self Harm and Blood**

* * *

**19 Scars**

Nico didn't know when or how exactly it started. It's just… pure accident, really.

One night, he had woken from a nightmare. And it wasn't just the normal nightmares that left you screaming. Oh, no. The nightmare Nico experienced just now and probably will again in the near future, was the type that left you in halfway states of dreamworld and reality, images of your multiple thought-long-gone ghosts still flashing in your mind. Ghosts that appeared to you, eyes closed or not, and the type that _just wouldn't leave you alone. _

Panicking, the sheets tangled long beyond order, the too-pale-boy tumbled out of bed and onto the floor in a graceless heap.

For many moments, he lay there, listening to the sound of uneven breathing, half-aware that the ragged, scared, _awful_ sound was coming from none other than his own self. That, and the deafening silence in the background.

All Nico could focus on, whether he wanted or not, was the pale, slim, _dead_ figure of his older sister he saw in his mind.

He thought he had moved on. Going through Tartarus must have only made the it all come back.

Her hair was braided and her skin had a silvery glow to it, just like the last time he saw her.

"_Nico_," she would say. "_Il mio fratellino_." _My little brother. _

_I'm sorry_, he wanted to say. _I'm sorry for being such a burden. I'm sorry that burden ultimately led to your death. I'm sorry. _

But he never did.

(_And in the back of his mind, Nico knew it would never be enough_.)

Nico wanted it to go away.

Slowly, painstakingly, Nico picked himself off the floor, he tumbled over to his nightstand in reach of those god-awful insomnia treatment pills of his that knocked him out for six hours so he could actually get some sleep.

(_He had shadow traveled to the nearest pharmacy, without permission of course, and taken some of that stuff, because no, he didn't want others to know, he wasn't weak, he could deal with his own problems, always had, and probably always will. He couldn't let them know; everyone was so happy and relaxed. Why should he burden others with his problems? And that was what he was. A burden.)_

The pills; they were awful, but Nico didn't exactly have anything better.

_(Because he wasn't Percy or Annabeth; when they went through Hell, they had each other, and when those nightmares haunted them, they had each other. And as depressing as it was, Nico didn't have anyone like that. Friends, maybe, but not people who understood each other like Percy and Annabeth did.)_

_(Yet.)_

In his stupor, Nico managed to not only knock over the cabinet where the pills were held, but also a fair amount of the many pointy objects hanging from the Hades Cabin walls. The crash caused Nico to lose his balance, and the 13 year old boy, as well as his many belongings, were sent crashing to the floor once more. Blinking, Nico stared up at the ceiling.

_Burden_, his mind whispered.

Nico tensed his body, as if being on guard would make that voice go away. He curled into a tiny ball, and moved his hands towards his head, to brace it, to stop hearing, when he suddenly froze.

His hand had scraped past a celestial bronze knife, drawing blood along the way.

And as blood slowly started pouring from his body, the voice silenced.

It was gone, gone, _gone_, drowned out by the pain blossoming from his hand, and right then and there, it was right there it seemed that Nico found the solution to making the voice go away.

_Cutting_.

**oOo**

This story begins several weeks later, when Nico di Angelo had shot up in bed in the middle of the night (early morning, but details, details.) after one of those nightmares, sleep deprived and not thinking straight (one of the side effects of not sleeping), with an unbelievable urge to cut.

After many failed attempts, Nico managed to stumble all the way to the Hades cabin bathroom, and he instantly kneeled at one of the toilets and dry heaved. As expected, nothing came out, because well, Nico hadn't been exactly eating great.

For a while, he just knelt there, on his knees and clutching the toilet bowl.

A lone thought played his mind once more, as it did so many past times.

_Cut_.

It wasn't even to make to the voice go away anymore. It was to make that stress, the pain, the weight of knowing that he was a burden, that he killed his older sister, that he was _uselessuselessuseless_—

Oh look. The voice was back. Never mind.

_Cut_.

Now, where were his blades?

Fumbling out of the bathroom and back into his cabin, Nico dismissed the fact he was crashing into things left and right, until finally, finally, his hand closed around the hilt of his sword.

Finally.

Sinking into the floor that long ago needed to be cleaned, exhausted, Nico brought the midnight back sword to his left wrist without hesitation (_because by now, this ritual-like doing of his was good as routine. Funny, how quickly the human mind develops a habit_.) slashed downward.

Nico let out a shaking breath.

It felt so good, to not have to listen to that voice.

To not not be able to shut it out.

_Again_, his mind thought. _Again_.

The blade was the kindle, the cutting was the flame, and Nico was the moth.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame, huh?

Nico's lips twitched.

Poetic.

And so he did. Again, the blade was raised. Again, the cold, promising metal kissed his skin. Again, the blood. Over and over.

He was carving into his own skin.

And Nico barley registered it.

His left arm ached. Stung a bit, even.

Oh well.

They weren't even clean cuts, he knew, but Nico could not bring himself to care at that very moment.

All he could think about was that the voice was silenced and he was _freefreefree_.

(_Temporarily_.)

The deed done, the sword clattered out of his hand, and Nico slumped over onto his side.

With his right cheek pressed against the unpolished wood floor, Nico realized at the back of his mind that sunlight (_sunlight_!) had slowly started to stream through the cracks in his curtained windows.

_Huh. Morning already?_

_Days go by so fast, all of it was a blur…_

_Did Bianca feel this way when she was in the graveyard?_

_She must have felt scared...and alone. And frightened. And regretful._

And it was all his fault.

_I am the Ghost King_, Nico thought quite randomly as he began losing consciousness. _So does that mean I will become one?_

_Life as a ghost._

_Forever wandering aimlessly, forever lost in the crowd._

_Because gods know I'm not a hero._

_Never was, never will be, no matter what they say…_

_Maybe I should be for rebirth?_

_Hm, that might not be too bad..._

As blood seeped out of the wound at seemingly unnatural speeds, Nico idly wondered if his cut was just a little too deep this time.

**oOo**

Will Solace couldn't sleep.

Well, it wasn't that his body couldn't sleep, but rather it was more like he had much too much on his mind at the moment for something as mundane as sleep.

So, as cliche as it sounded (_because #3 had been a cliche person back when she was well enough, and frankly, Will never really got over those incidents_.) Will decided to go for a walk.

Avoiding the harpies were easy; medical herbs to hide his scent and let him blend into the background, wrap a bit of mist around his person, and voila! The harpies wouldn't be able to smell you unless you were a meter away. Works every time.

(Because Will had been to this camp for over a decade, and he was bound to pick up some tricks. And yes, Will had a rebellious streak. One that he very much hides.)

As he casually strolled around the outer ring of cabins, lost in thought, Will closed his eyes and slowly breathed in a quiet breath of morning air.

(#_17 had always loved mornings_…)

He was suddenly jerked from his personal cloud by a badly muffled crash. Pushing down his brimming shock, Will glanced around, trying to find the source of the noise.

It's four in the morning! Who else in their right mind would be awake right now?

When Will eyes landed on the cabin in front of him, and he blinked.

Cabin 13, it read.

Cabin … 13?

Nico? He thought, sighing miniturely. Wonder what he's up to now…

Honestly, it was probably just Nico being stupid again.

But then again there was that Feeling in this chest, Feeling with a capital 'F', the little twisting emotion that was telling you something was going on, something was out of place.

See, the sunny, happy-go-lucky blonde was a Doctor. One that had been working in the Camp's Infirmary since the ripe age of seven, as well as Head for a good two years now. And because of that, it had caused Will to develop some sort of sixth sense that told him when and if he was needed somewhere.

One that was definitely tingling _right now_.

He narrowed his eyes against the rising sun, and shrugged, ultimately decided to just check the whole ordeal out. Will stepped onto the front porch of the Hades cabin.

Raising his first to knock, Will hesitated. What if Nico was fine and he flat out didn't want him to be there? What if he found it insulting? Or what if his doctor senses were just plain wrong?

… But what if they weren't?

The blondes determination soared at this thought. His doctor senses were never wrong. Ever.

He knocked.

After a few seconds, when the world didn't end, Will let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He didn't know how long he stood there, but it was enough for the sun's first rays to wash over Long Island, bright and … exited, almost. That, and for Will to knock on Nico's door a total of eleven more times.

P

_(#11 was always an over-excited and probably sugar high child)_

"Nico?" Will called out. "Nico, are you in there?"

No answer.

That doctor instinct was positively burning by now. And it was getting more and more uncomfortable and undismissable by the passing second.

"Nico. Nico, open this door!"

Nothing.

Needless to say, Will panicked.

But there was no thing as being over cautious, right?

"Nico, if you don't answer in the next three seconds, I'm kicking down this door!"

Half of Will expected Nico's furious face to come poking out of the door, grumbling about the time and noise, and would shoot a half hearted glare his way.

Instead, he was met with silence.

Three seconds later, (_more like 2.64 seconds, but hey, who's counting_?) Will took the lengthening silence as an invitation in and proceeded to do exactly as he intended, and kicked the wooden door open with a loud crash.

Now, Will has seen a lot of things in his life. From pushing himself to heal otherwise lethal wounds in mere minutes, (With his father's blessing of course, he wouldn't have been able to otherwise) to taking control of an entire mortal hospital, (he got mad, ok? And he was visiting his mother out of camp.) and not to mention delivering a fricking baby, (A CHILD!) Will honestly thought nothing could surprise him anymore.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Surprise didn't cut it when he set his eyes on Nico's prone form.

Surprise didn't cut it when Will found Nico's limp body sprawled across the wooden floor, skin deathly pale, sword clattered little ways away from his right hand, and laying in a puddle of his own blood.

_(This was how #12 died)_

Surprise didn't cut it.

_Surprise_ didn't come anywhere near it.

Not even close.

Will couldn't breath.

For a moment, it felt as if he was the one on the floor and bleeding out, not the other way around.

But then, it was gone. The distractions, the countless possibilities, (each more gruesome and more realistic than the last, and always, _always_, ending with him alive, him, facing a cold, _cold __**cold**_ (_dead_) body, blood, their blood, their once-warm-but-now-cold blood stained on his hands (_gods, it won't come off_) and-) his own hesitation, chucked out of the window and all the way to China.

Hours of protocol.

Countless days of drills.

By the Gods, he was a trained medic. He's dealt with these things before.

_(Then why does it feel like I'm about to lose a part of me…?) _

_(Again?)_

Procedure, procedure, procedure permanently burned into his memory (_#2's lifeless body in his hands, eyes wide with fear only moments ago, because gods dammit, procedure was broken—_) from sleepless nights pouring over tomes and notes long thought lost, all written over several millennia ago, all in Ancient Greek.

Instincts.

Primarily instincts.

It took over.

(He let them.)

(Because, well.

Because the real Will was huddled in a dark corner of his mind, fists clenched in his own hair, thinking _not again. No no no, not again,_ repeating it like a mantra in his own head, wanting desperately for this too-familiar living nightmare to be over.

So many times Will had let It take over, and most of the time, everything turned out to be okay.

But Will had learned the hard way, sometimes everything is not enough.

Sometimes, even when Will gave it everything he had and more, it just wasn't enough.

19 times.

19 cases, when it wasn't enough.

And 19 times a permanent wound was added to Will's soul.

19.

19 times It wasn't enough, and as a result, 19 people had ended up dead.

Will could still recite their names, each and every one of them, how they died, what their favorite food was…

Gone from this world.

And never to return.

_Dead._

_And how would he know when number 20 would happen?)_

Mentally cursing himself for not bringing with him his spare bandages after he ran out last night, Will scooped up the smaller boy bridal style ("_Be mindful of the wound Will; no need for it to bleed more than it already has._"), and without another thought, slamming open the door and sprinting towards the infirmary, chaos of the hissing harpys at his heels be damned.

(There was blood on his shirt, blood so red, not his, _never his—)_

Making it to the Big House in record time, the blond boy took no heed in his little sister's startled expression or reaction (_TANI MAPLE, blood type A positive, 13 years old. Daughter of Apollo, shift over in 0200 hours, next Head Healer—_) and laid Nico out on the nearest available cot.

Pulse, excess the damage, skin way too pale for that to be healthy…

"Will? Will! What the hell's going on?"

That voice — no, his little sister's voice, he relized, startled him out of his trance.

He vaguely realized he wasn't breathing.

Ah, yes. He should probably fix that.

Taking a deep breath, Will calmed himself. A panicked doctor had no place in the hospital. Well, infirmary, but whatever.

In, out.

In.

Out.

He wasn't alone in this.

"Tani, get me Nico di Angelo's file," Will said, visibly in a much calmer state of mind than moments ago. As Tani scrambled to do as he said, recognizing Will in his Doctor Mode, Will swallowed. "A-N-G-E-L-O."

Bandages, bandages_, oh gosh_, the Camp was low on bandages. Needed to keep that in mind...

Hurringly grabbing a few rolls and washing his hands in a practiced motion, Tani laid out Nico's medical file, sneaking a glance at said unconscious boy.

One look was all it took to stop the questions forming on the younger girl's tongue.

Hands already glowing golden with his demigod powers, Will pressed it to Nico still bleeding wrist. (diagnose, no infection, not a very clean cut, close the wound…)

Tani, gods bless her, that smart girl, had already washed her hands and had run off to grab the camp's supply of Ambrosia and Nectar while Will bandaged Nico's wounds

Left hand still glowing in a diagnostic technique, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the criss cross of multiple scars lining Nico's arm.

_Ah... A cutter…_

_How did I not notice this before?!_

Deeming Nico's now most recent wound not going to open any time soon, and therefore now not needing his immediate attention (_thank dear father Apollo for demigod powers, a fatal wound healed in the matter of minutes instead of days—_) he laid Nico wrist down gently and focussed on his other scars, (pretty recent, but closed, so that was good) laddering up and down his arms.

Eyeing them quickly and bandaging those too, (_just in case_) the diagnostic finished (_finally_) and Will closed his eyes, processing the information it gave him.

Nico's blood levels were dangerously low; it was to be expected, given how Will found Nico in the first place, but still. It didn't change the fact he needed a blood transfusion, as soon as possible.

In other words, _now_.

Force feeding Ambrosia or Nectar wouldn't work. From the diagnosis, Will had learned Nico had taken an alarming amount of the godly substance, _(substituting for food, maybe? Gods, Nico. What exactly did you do to your body?_); it was dangerous to give him any more.

For the first time in his life, Will cursed the camp's mindset that Ambrosia and Nectar could fix any wound. Obviously not, as seen in this case.

More godly substance right now wasn't going to work. In his current state, there was a higher chance of Nico turning to ashes and dust compared to actually healing him.

A blood transfusion wouldn't work either. Not in Nico's case. His file said he was an O negative blood type, (_and oh gosh Nico, why did your blood type have to be so rare_?) meaning only other O negatives could give him blood. And then there was that teensy little fact that O negatives were extremely rare … it was no wonder there were no other O negatives in camp. (Well, technically, Chiron was, but he was half horse, so Will decide it was better not to risk it)

So that basically only left only one option.

The option of using his already limited demigod powers to forcibly infuse itself into the existing blood cells, therefore speeding up the regeneration and growth rate. It wasn't by far the most large scale technique Will ever performed, but even still, the risks and pressure were sky high. For both Nico and Will. Infuse too little, nothing would happen. Infuse too much, the blood cells would burst, similar to a water balloon with too much water. If that happened, Nico could be left with even less blood, and either way Will would be left exhausted, in no shape or form to attempt it, or anything in fact, again.

In other words, it was the exact opposite outcome Will wanted.

Will's hands, still hovering over Nico's prone form, clenched.

This time wasn't the first time someone else's life was in his hands.

(_But this was Nico—_)

Take it slow.

That's what his older siblings had taught him, so long ago. With dangerous procedures, always, always take it slow. No panicking.

Breath.

Just breath.

In.

Out.

In, out.

Closing his eyes, Will unclenched his fists. His fingers splayed out and brushed against Nico's chest, feather light and calm.

("_Control is important, Will. It's like threading a needle, you get it_?")

Will remembered the early mornings, the sun on his face.

("_Whatsa needle_?" )

His mother's piano music, fingers dancing across the keys and laughter bubbling form her lips, him watching with half-lidded eyes and a smile from _before._

_(_He had one shot at this. Once_.)_

_(A laugh. "You'll understand one day, Will. Don't worry, you have time. You're only six.")_

The warmth in his chest and the unstoppable feeling when his father blessed him those years ago.

(And he wasn't going to waste it.)

(_"Whens 'one day'?")_

Opening his eyes, Will took hold of the sun's golden energy, and pulled.

(_"Soon_.")

And the sun answered his call.

* * *

**AN: hello. I'm late. I know.**

**There are mistakes in here. I just haven't found them yet. **

**um, don't own. if I did, I'd be rich. Which I'm not. **

**but, ah, tell me what you guys think, yeah? This thing should only be two parts, but don't qoute me on that.**

**:)**

**\- Mei**


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer; Rights belong to Rick Riordan**

**Beta'ed by Primie**

* * *

**19 Scars**

Tani knew Will Solace was one of the blessed.

Almost everyone in Camp did. It was just, well, when their minds turned to the blessed, their first thoughts were the Seven, the Children of the Big Three, countless other legends… the list went on and on.

Supposedly, Blessed Children were rare. For so many to pop up within mere months of each other ... in short, the rumor mill took in the news like fish to water. The Blessed Children were nothing short of legends.

But not many's first thoughts of the Blessed go to Will Solace.

And they had a good reason not to, Tani supposed.

Unlike Piper McLean's Charmspeak or Grover Underwood's Cry of Pan, where the two respectively could use the abilities and still stay on their feet, Will Solace's Healing was a completely different ball game.

Will's blessing was never used flauntingly, never taken as a simple trump card, something to pull out in the midst of battle. It was more like a last resort card.

Of course, Tani had never seen him use the Healing directly, but she had seen the aftermath. Will Solace, lying on an infirmary cot completely exhausted and passed out, while the patient on the other hand, was completely healed. Not a single scratch remained.

Needless to say, not many had seen Will Solace in action and were lucid enough to tell the tale. In fact, Tani could probably count the people who had ever seen it, not subjected to, but rather seen from the sidelines, on one hand.

Will never used it unless there really wasn't any other choice.

(_No other choice, they had told her—)_

And right now, there really wasn't any other choice.

The patient had lost a lot of blood. Normally this wouldn't be the problem, unless the patient had a really rare blood type or was a demigod.

In this case, the patient was both.

Only demigods could give demigods blood. Well, technically, demigods could receive blood from mortals, but the results weren't exactly pretty. AKA, the godly blood would burn out the mortal blood, and it would leave the demigod with even less blood. Which was the opposite of what everyone wanted. Foreign substances and all, Tani didn't really understand it.

Rare blood types, that one was self explanatory. The patient had O negative type blood. While Os are the universal donor, not the same can be said for receiver. The problem was, O's only can receive from other O types, and less than 7% of the entire US population were O negatives. Coupled with the fact the Camp was currently out of O negative blood… In short, things weren't looking good.

Despite all of that, Tani could not push aside the fact that she was about to witness the Blessed Children of Apollo's famously rumored Healings.

Tani was in awe.

She could feel, from where she was standing, her brother pull at the sun's energy, filling the room with the unmistakable feeling of _safesafesafe_. His eyes were closed, and the almost unnoticeable golden glow from his palms was directed at the patient's body, and—

Tani shut her eyes, squeezed her fits, trying to burn the feeling into her memory.

It was amazing.

It was warm, it was comforting, it was everything and more Tani had ever even dared to imagine what _safe_ would be like.

Of course, it ended all too soon.

No more than four minutes into Will working his magic and Tani silently fangirling, the warm feeling disappeared rather unexpectedly.

And ever so conveniently, right at that moment, Will drew his hands back from the patient and promptly crumpled to the floor.

(_His eyes were closed, his body was cold, lifeless—)_

For a long moment, nothing could be heard except for Tani's slightly panicked breathing.

Only uncorhentent noises could be made as she hurried over to the patient and brother.

Crouching down, she laid her elder brother into a much more comfortable position, and began the normal check up routine.

Pulse, breath, color… all good, if a little on the way-too-pale-but-he's-alive-so-I'm-not-going-to-dwell-on-that side. Just exhausted.

Now, the patient.

Hesitant, Tani's hands gently inspected the patient's once damaged body.

Professionalism kept her form squealing like a little girl (the girl she was supposed to be, but oh well. She was a demigod, what did she expect?) and self control kept her from laughing hysterically.

Once again. Pulse, breath, color...

When Tani finished, she stepped back in shock. Breathing out, she slowly wrapped her mind around the clearly displayed results.

Despite logic, despite laws, despite everything, really, Will had done the so-called impossible.

Tani wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it for herself.

Nothing.

Not even a single scratch.

As Tani moved her brother's limp body over to a cot, and drew the curtain around the patient's cot closed, she made a promise.

Tani Maple vowed to work harder, to never give in, to _save more lives._

Because results were right in front of her, and the patient would have no doubt died if Will Solace hadn't been there.

If there was a way to save them, she would take it.

She vowed to be a healer worthy of being Head.

(_Because they were doctors, and one of the first rules doctors learned was that you can't save everyone._

_Tani saw it once, when the life of a stranger slipped through her very own fingers. He had slit his wrists, and had bleed out in Tani's arms._

_Tani still remembers it as it was yesterday._

_She was eight._

_And she vowed to never let it happen again.)_

**oOo**

When Nico opened his eyes, he was greeted by the too-white, very obvious walls of the Infirmary, and most noticeably not his dim lit cabin.

_Huh. The cut wasn't too deep after all._

Nico immediately shut his eyes again.

_Ugh. Bright. Way too bright._

Not to mention, Nico really didn't want to deal with the fallout of whatever happened (_because there's always a fallout to deal with, whether you like it or not_—).

So, back to pretending he was still dead-to-the-world it was.

After what felt like an eternity, Nico cracked open his eyelids and tried to best the blinding lights. Because it was either the way-too-bright lights or the mind numbing boredom. And what do you get when you bestow insane amounts of boredom on a demigod with ADHD? Disaster!

Blinking rapidly to get his eyesight in somewhat of a working order, Nico pulled himself into a sitting position and took in his surroundings.

The most obvious thing was the fact he was in the infirmary. How he got here, he didn't know. (_Someone found you, someone saw—) _

The curtains were thankfully drawn closed. Nico was thankful to whoever did that.

A quick glance out the window told Nico it was just past dinner, if the sun was any indication.

_So_, he thought. _I slept from morning to dinner. That's better than most of my track record_.

Judging form the bandages wrapped around his wrist and the absence of the telltale sting of fresh wounds, as well as the fact he was (still) donned in only his sleepwear, (a loose t-shirt and sweatpants) his best guess was that someone found him after he passed out and had brought him here for healing.

He wondered if they had seen his scars. (Who was he kidding? Of course they had!)

At that moment, Nico's stomach lurched. Not from hunger, no. But form the newfound knowledge of that soon, the entire camp would know, and those eyes of pity would follow him again, and he would be even more of a freak than he already was, and, and—

Commotion behind the curtains made Nico snap out of his panicked thoughts.

"—fine, Tani. Don't worry—"

"Will, you—"

But then the curtains were pushed open, interrupting the conversation. And to Nico's shock, it revealed a very pale, very tired looking son of Apollo. (Oh, and his sister beside him, but that was beside the point.)

"Will?" Nico blurted out before he could stop himself.

Will's eyes instantly snapped towards Nico's face, then widened.

"You're awake!"

Then, as if someone had dropped a bomb into the room, Nico's entire demeanor became much, much more guarded. He flinched, as if struck, and shrank into himself. Setting his jaw, Nico averted his gaze.

Will, receiving the message of 'leave-me-alone-I-am-death,' narrowed his eyes and stood his ground.

(_What else did you expect? This was Will Solace, he's not like other people. That stubbornness he so strongly displays will get him killed one day, just like all the other people you hold dear—)_

Silently gesturing for his sister to leave, which she did so reluctantly, the blonde gave his full attention to the son of Hades.

Instead of lecturing him on the dangers of self harm and blood and blah blah blah (_It's not like he_ understands—) as Nico thought he would, he only sighed and said:

"Get up, Nico. Let's take a walk."

**oOo**

Will had taken him to the far edge of the creek, a clearing where campers rarely ventured and on the borderline of Camp's boundaries.

Nico didn't even know the place existed.

There was a small cliff some distance forwards, a front row seat of the setting sun.

Will looked completely at home, and for a second, Nico wondered if he was. If this was his safe place, that is.

The golden haired boy in question was sprawled out on the grass, facing the sun, seemingly without a care in the world.

Nico suddenly felt very awkward. Like he wasn't supposed to be there, or as if he was intruding. Which, by the way, was impossible, because there was currently nothing to intrude.

As if reading his thoughts, Will turned to face him and smiled a smile. (More like a grimace, but still.)

Nico didn't return his smile.

Tilting his head, completely disregarding the vibe of I-don't-want-to-be-here Nico was immiting, he patted the spot next to him with his right hand, gesturing Nico to sit.

Nico didn't want to sit. Nico didn't even want to be here.

But he sat anyway.

"Where is this place?" Nico asked, unable to stand the silence any longer.

Will, in turn only closed his eyes and breathed in a deep breath.

"Well?"

A breath out.

"Safe."

Oh.

"Oh," He voiced.

They fell silent once again.

And once again, when Nico couldn't stand the silence anymore, he bursted out another question. Maybe it was because he knew what was coming, or because he was nervous to the point of hysterics, (not that it showed) or maybe because his biggest secret was just revealed and he had no idea how to handle the aftermath. (_Will he tell the other campers? Will everybody soon know? Will—)_

"Did you bring me here to tell me to stop cutting?"

At the sound of his question, Nico immediately jammed his mouth shut. Great, now he only made another mess…

_And now,_ Nico thought, _is where the doctor goes into an hour long lecture of the dangers of self harm, and he'll shout and announce it to the world. He'll get mad and angry and I'll get mad and angry and this'll end in tears and a shouting match, and nothing good will come out of this, and—_

Will only made a non-committal sound at the back of his throat.

Somehow, that only made it worse.

"I'm not going to," Nico babbled on, trying to fill the suffocating silence. "I won't do it too deeply. I never have, I'm still alive, aren't I? And you can't stop me. You can tell me useless things all you want, but who says I'll listen to you? You're only one person, you don't hold any authority over me—"

"I know," came the soft answer, a stark contrast to Nico's uncontrolled, panic and anger filled rant.

Cut off, Nico eyed the blonde boy carefully.

"I'm fine," Nico spat out. "I've always looked after myself, and I still can. I don't need some kind of _babysitter_."

Will didn't say anything, only started off into the distance.

Nico narrowed his eyes further. "Look, Solace. If you didn't bring me here to ask about my habits, why did you?"

Nico in all honestly wasn't expecting an answer from the strangely stoic blonde. He was prepared to stomp off after he said his piece.

But he got an answer anyways.

"To ask you why you were doing it."

Nico didn't expect this. At all.

His first thought was filled with shock.

Why in Hades name would Will be using this approach? It didn't make sense.

His second thought was filled with anger. (The anger you don't know why you feel but it's there anyways and it makes you not think straight and entirely consumes you in it's frustrations and grabs hold of you and _doesn't let go_-)

How _dare_ he? _He_ didn't know, didn't _understand_ his reasons and mindset, how could he? (And Nico didn't want others to go through what he went through because no one should. And Will was a friend; however he would deny it. He was important to him, he was too—too _good_ to experience what he did, no matter what he said.)

"I have my reasons," Nico snapped, cold as a blade of ice.

(A double edged blade, they say._)_

The clearing was flooded with silence, tension overriding Nico's very being.

Will, Nico noted, looked completely unbothered.

_He didn't understand,_ Nico thought. _How could he? He, the goody-two shoes golden boy, would never in a __million years_—

"You're right," Will Solace stated calmly, (too calmly) eyes downcast. "I don't understand what you've gone through."

This startled Nico out of his thoughts. What was he playing at?

"And I don't think I ever will," He continued. "Because I haven't been through hell, I've never seen the horrors of the horrors. I'll never understand what you've been though, Nico."

Will raised his face to meet Nico's death glare straight on, not flinching the slightest.

"But I think I know why you do it. Cut, I mean."

"How would you know? It's not like you—"

"Nico."

For the first time since entering the clearing, Nico looked into Will's eyes. Not just looking, but really looked into Will's eyes. Underneath the underneath.

With a jolt, he realized the usual bright, cheery, sky blue was gone, and in its place … perhaps that was the most haunting part. The fact that Nico immediately recognized the eyes Will was blandly showing him right at that moment. Those were the same eyes, (_much, much, much too familiar—_) the exact same he saw every day. In fact, he saw them whenever he looked into a mirror.

They spoke of sadness and longing, bitterness and self hate, helplessness and _gods-I-should-have-done-more_ and—and … and that insane bit of suicide, and depression.

"Nico," he repeated, his eyes still those dim, shadowed blue. " I think I understand why you did it."

_But then, did he—no. No, it can't be._

_(But what if?)_

"It's either an escape, or a reminder. Knowing you, it's probably both. Am I right?"

_That … that was exactly right. How—_

"I am, aren't I? It hurts so bad you can't bear to face it, yet on the other hand, you don't want it to ever happen again. You can't _let_ it happen again."

Nico was shocked silent. How did he—Will, it was almost as if he could read his mind—but if that, no, no. No.

Sneaking a glance at Will's face, Nico was surprised to find a small sad smile in place of the bright-as-the-sun-itself facade.

(And that's what it was. A facade. Then what exactly was Will Solace hiding?)

The next words Will uttered out, ever so soft and gentle, shook Nico up so bad his mental barriers came completely crashing down.

"It takes one to know one, right?"

Instantly, without permission, Nico's eyes flashed downwards to Will's wrists.

"I know what you're probably thinking," he continued, completely ignoring Nico's not so subtle reactions. "I'm a doctor. A healer. I lecture people on the dangers of self-harm constantly."

Will, ever so slowly, pulled off the many friendships and strings and all kinds of bracelets he wore around his wrists. "Yeah, I know. Real hypocritical of me," Will said, letting out a humorless chuckle. "But I'm also a demigod. A half-blood. And I've lost more than my fair share of people."

For the first time, Nico was Will's exposed wrists. It was smart of him, in a twisted way. When he covered up his arms with the aviator jackets he refused to take off, Will went for the much simpler approach. Bracelets. And besides. Less people thought twice about numerous bracelets in the middle of the summer, as opposed to a bulky aviator's jacket worn all summer long.

Unlike his own skin, which had random crisscrosses and were a patchwork of old scars and fresh scars on a good day (and there were bad days, when his skin was so soaked in red he couldn't tell the difference of blood and skin, and Nico would just feel numb and force himself to ignore it-), Will's were lined up, side by side, all neat and orderly. They were tiny, no more than the width of his pinkie finger, but from the scarred tissue Nico could tell they were impossibly deep. What was strange about them was the further down his wrists, the fresher the scars and the redder the skin, almost as if a time lapse of sorts.

"Yeah," Will said. "They're different than yours."

"Why?" Nico asked, hesitant. His previous anger had been momentarily forgotten.

Will took his time replying, taking a deep breath of the calm, cool and letting it out slowly.

"Each cut," he began, eyes wandering over to the setting sun. "Every time I take up my blades is a reminder to myself. Every scar is, in fact. A reminder, that is. It's twisted, I guess, I know. I have 19 scars total. ...there's one for every patient I couldn't save."

Nico was silent. Will … he shouldn't have yelled at him earlier like that … hell, he shouldn't have assumed things in the first place.

"Each scar is a reminder, Nico. To work harder to save the next one, because messing up is incredibly easy. 19 patients under my care, and I failed them. _Gods, _Nico I have 19 lives on my hands.

"I'm Head Healer, so all the severe cases come to me. Nico, they trusted me. With everything and anything they had. And _god dammit, I let them die."_

Will was glaring at the ground now, fists clenched tight.

"You know, one of the first lessons as a healer are the words 'you can't save everybody'. All my siblings say I get too attached too easily. Maybe it's true. It probably is."

Will let out a breath Nico didn't know he was holding.

"I still remember their faces, their deaths, how they died; what went wrong during my healing... Hell, I even know what they're favorite colors were, and that's so random, but I do—"

Will was positively babbling now. A floodgate unlocked, a filter taken away, hysteria making its way free.

_He's … scared._ Nico realized. _But of what?_

Will, seemingly to have suddenly cut himself off from his train of thought, took a deep breath, (_he does that a lot_, Nico realized) and managed to find some semblance of level-headedness and continue onward with the messed up conversation they were sharing.

"Nico," Will stated, voice soft. "The reason I brought you here today was to ask you to please not bring that number up to 20. You're important to me, alright? Remember, Nico, we all have our scars."

Nico,, for the lack of better words, was speechless, as his brain sorted out what the other boy was bluntly implying. Important? Him _dying_? "I—"

"Just think about it, alright?" Will cut him off, abruptly standing up and stretching. "It's late, I'm heading back. You should, too."

Then, without another word, he started out of the clearing, leaving behind a stunned Son of Hades at his wake.

The golden haired boy had not taken more than four steps when his name was called out.

"Will!" Urgent.

Said blonde startled, almost jumping, and turned.

"Nico? What is it?"

Nico, that awkward child, had scrambled to his feet and ran after the older boy, despite him being only a few steps away.

"I—" Nico stuttered. (_Gods above, I'm the Ghost King, when the hell do I stutter?)_ "I'm sorry!" He blurted out, flushing an impressive shade of red.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, I know I shouldn't have, but I was just so mad—that isn't an excuse, I know, And I'm sorry for making you worry, and I really, really didn't mean to—"

"Nico—"

"—and for what's it worth, I sorry for—"

He was suddenly cut off, for he was suddenly pulled into a tight hug, surprisingly strong arms wrapping around him.

"When I found you," Will whispered into Nico's hair, squeezing him tight as if afraid to let go. "I was so scared. You were lying in a pool of your own blood, Nico. I was—I was afraid I'd lose you too."

In that moment, Nico realized two things. One, was the extent of how exactly afraid Will had been.

And the second … was how perfectly his body fit against Will's.

Burying his face into Will's shoulder, all he could think was _safe_.

(Because that's what Will was to Nico, whether he knew it or not. He was his Home, he was his Safe, he was the sun he revolved around.)

This movement comforted Will, Nico could tell. As if Nico had wordlessly made him a promise, or accepted him, or _something, _Will had miniturely relaxed_._

Eventually, the two found themselves back in the clearing, content to watch the setting sun dip below the horizon and a dark, inky sky take its place in peace.

Now, if anybody saw a certain Will Solace and Nico Di Angelo sneaking back to the cabins hand in hand early the next morning, nobody said anything.

Nothing needed to be said, nothing needed to be explained. They all had godly blood running through their veins, they all understood.

_Because after all, we all have our scars._

_-Fin-_

* * *

**AN: And here it is! Sorry for the wait, I have no excuse.**

**So, what did you guys think? Good ending, bad ending, anything written weirdly? Feedback, give pls.**

**Everybody remember to wash their hands, yeah? Stay safe, everynoe.**

**Yeah, this thing was written purely to fulfill my Solangelo needs. Ah well. It turned out pretty ok.**

**\- Mei**


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